Those three days you were dead
by SimplyUnmistakable
Summary: He had left to fight Uchiha Madara. And he might not come back alive. But Mito begged the gods for a chance to see him alive again. She begged the gods for him to stay safe. Because she had to tell him. She had to tell him something she had not known herself until the day he had left. She had to tell him she loved him. And that she cannot imagine losing him.
1. Prologue

"Senju-sama, are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea, at least. You haven't eaten since yesterday and…"

"Get out! Leave! Now!" the red haired woman cried at the top of her lungs, scaring the young maid away.

That lovely young maid, who had only meant well, ran out, scared, dropping the porcelains in which she had been bringing the tea.

Still irritated, Mito, grimaced and knelt to the floor, picking the porcelain shards, with much more patience than she thought herself capable of having in that very moment. Her kimono got soaked in warm tea, as she crawled on her knees, around the room, gathering the shards.

Finally finishing, she rang the bell. The maid stepped in fearfully, knowing that she had done wrong, waiting to be seriously scolded for the porcelains, but Madame Senju said only, "Bring me a night dress. I'll be preparing for sleep." The maid nodded, taking the gathered shards of porcelain as she left.

Mito seated before the mirror and started undoing her hair. Her eyes were still glimmering with the recent anger. But that was alright. Her eyes hadn't been so alive for a long while.

While cleaning her make-up, she watched her face attentively. Mito had yet to reach her thirties. Her face was still young, her face, smooth, her lips, red. Being a kunoichi, her constant training left her with a thin, delicious figure even after her two children. Still, was she too old to feel a first heart break?

"Here, Senju-sama," the maid brought the dress. Mito clenched her teeth, remembering what had caused her to burst that way just earlier.

"Mito-sama," she corrected the maid sharply. The young one was new in there, probably. "You shall call my husband like that," she added, dismissing the maid. _If he ever comes back…_

She'd even dress down and prepare for sleep alone than hear another mention _made by mistake_ of her husband.

She got up in her bed, but a single glance at the other side of it, now empty, was enough for her to get up as if she'd been sitting on snakes. Her eyes got teary as she fell to her knees, sobbing quietly. "What have you done, you idiot?" she questioned with a whisper, talking to the empty space at the right side of her bed.

But that didn't last long. She got up fast, clearing her vision. "And what am I doing now, idiot me?" she mumbled in a cried, husky voice. Opening the door slowly, she made sure there was no one around and tiptoed to the opposite room. Walking inside, she stared at the two little figures sleeping peacefully in their beds. Why she was in there, she had no idea. Probably, she had come at the push of a sudden instinct of checking it; to check if that new aura poured over these two creatures, part of him, carrying so many features and behavior patterns of his. Walking quietly to the closest bed, the one in which slept the youngest, she felt the same tenderness any person with a beating heart would have felt at the sight of such a lovable, pretty toddler, but not that of a mother longing for her child. Her own numbness burned her inside and she walked out and back to her room. Maybe it was just her, in the end. Maybe she did not have the heart to love, like any other woman could. In that moment, the blissful joy on the face of her husband, the day the youngest had been born, appeared before her eyes. Why hadn't she felt that way, too?

She was heartless. The look in everybody's eyes told it, "Look at that heartless one. She does not care for anybody but herself." People did not like her. They were obedient because they had to. Because she was a fearless kunoichi. Because she was the wife of the Hokage. The wife of Senju Hashirama – this man who had left. He had left to fight Uchiha Madara. And he might not come back alive. But Mito begged the gods for a chance to see him alive again. She begged the gods for him to stay safe. Because she had to tell him. She had to tell him something she had not known herself until the day he had left. She had to tell him she loved him. And that she cannot imagine losing him.


	2. Before the bricks were laid

The day Uzumaki Mito first met Senju Hashirama was a bright day, a day too bright for a seven years old girl to stay inside, waiting around, dressed up in a fancy kimono and keeping her braided hair well clean and in order. However, while staying by the side of her father and silently listening to the discussion would have been extremely boring, hiding behind curtains and eavesdropping to it seemed way more interesting and challenging.

Her kimono was covered in mud, same as her hands. Her hair was hanging loosely, falling into her face. She made the effort of tucking behind her ear, something useless and even worsening. Not only did her hair fall back again, but she also befouled her hair and left a muddy mark up her cheek.

They had said Senju-sama was to come that day. But, snooping around, Mito could not spot the old man she had known to be Senju-sama. She liked that old man. So who was this very younger man her father was discussing with?

"An alliance? With the Uchiha clan? Build a village together? What are you saying, young man?" she heard her father ask in a rather surprised tone. "Listen, Hashirama, what I know is that, if my father was to be dead by the fault of one's clan, I'd think of something totally different than propose an alliance with 'em…," he went on indulgently, as if pitying the younger one's judgment.

The younger one nodded once, wearing a smile that made him look rather gully, as if he knew better, but did not mind explaining things more patiently to an old stubborn man. The impression Hashirama gave her that day was of a person tame as a chicken, rather meek and silly.

"Revenge is what you claim to be the best chance, isn't it?" young Hashirama said in a clement voice, with the patience you use in talking to a little child, "But let's think this further. We battle. Let's say one of _their_ leaders dies in this conflict. Then they would surely want revenge on us. And I cannot put my clan through this. I must think about their well-being and prosperity first – the endless conflicts we are already in with the Uchiha clan lead to nothing good."

The Uzumaki leader looked at the eighteen years old man with compassion, yet not agreement. He had understood the young one was a dreamer. And you cannot convince a dreamer he's wrong. You just have to let him see his mistakes after everything is done and ended.

"Listen, son, I cannot say I agree to such a madness," the old Uzumaki said with commiseration. "Do what you want to do and be sure of my aid in time of needs. In the name of your father's memory, I cannot let you down, no matter what," he assured the younger one with kindness.

Mito stood down, on the floor, quietly. This was rather boring. And this younger Senju was such a dreamer; she couldn't help but agree with her father's judgment. As the conversation she was no longer paying attention to continued, the young girl started pulling at the curtains, mindlessly. Were the curtains not stable enough, or was her arm stronger than it should have, she did not really care for such reasons when she's seen the curtains coming onto the floor with noise, revealing a stoned young girl to the men, with fiery red hair, widened eyes and muddy hands and cheek.

The young man laughed at the sight, his laugh so light, childish and charismatic it annoyed her to no end, just for the fact that it made her feel stupid.

"Looks like we caught a dangerous spy in here," young Hashirama looked with amusement at the young creature.

"My youngest child and only daughter," the old Uzumaki commented, shooting Mito a look which made her choose the perspective of glancing at the floor instead.

"Here you were!" an angry looking Okaasan, carrying tea, exclaimed at the sight of her, not long since gone with the wind from her room. "And look at how she's looking! Where were you, young lady?"

Mito's skin went the color of her hair. It was so embarrassing, being scolded in front of a stranger, especially this meek guy with childish laugh.

"I've been training," she mumbled, still looking down.

"Training?" the one to ask, surprised, was Hashirama. "Is she training as a ninja?"

"No child o' mine will ever be said to be weak," the Uzumaki clan leader said with pride, looking at his daughter with more indulgence at hearing she'd been using her time usefully. That was not valid for her mother, though.

"That's really impressing," Hashirama replied, looking, indeed, impressed. "Not many women in my clan choose to even hear of such violent ways. Their parents agree it's not safe for women."

"It's not _appropriate_ for women," Mito's mother came in between, leaving the tea and taking the girl out. "Excuse us," she bowed in the men's direction and left. As soon as they walked out, the men started talking about something totally different.

As she walked out, still not daring to look her mother in the eyes, or anyone else in their way, the young girl was frowning, hoping she'd never meet the young Senju ever again.


End file.
